


Deancas Vision

by Hayleythewriter



Category: Supernatural, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Crossover, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mystery, post 15x20, sitcoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 07:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hayleythewriter/pseuds/Hayleythewriter
Summary: Dean and Castiel are Westview residents who try to fit in with their wacky neighbors, including Dean's younger brother, Sam, and his wife, Eileen.Castiel doesn't remember his life before Westview and that's fine, that's fine, that's fine.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Deancas Vision

The world was in black and white. 

A nice one-story house stood in a row of nearly identical houses. The grass was the perfect length, the tulips leading to the front porch were perfectly planted. 

Dean was dressed in his usual clothes: a crisp white button up tucked into a nice pair of slacks. He had a tie and a belt. His hair was parted to the side and gelled into place. His suit jacket was folded, on the crease, and it hung from the back of an empty kitchen chair. He wasn’t sure what color his suit was. It looked dark grey. But so did most things. 

Dean stood in front of the stove with a spatula. He whistled to himself as he scrambled eggs in a pan. 

The kitchen had two doors. One led to their living room. The other led to the backyard, and it had a small window with a frilly white curtain. 

Dean spooned the eggs onto two plates and set bacon strips into the pan. He heard the sizzle right as the backdoor opened. 

“Hello, Dean.” The audience burst into applause and cheers. Dean turned and inhaled sharply. 

Cas stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a similar fashion, a collared shirt, a tie, but his suit jacket was on. He also had a hat in one hand and a briefcase in the other. Dean exhaled into a smile. 

“Heya, Cas. How was work?” 

“It was good. Today was Jim’s birthday. He brought cake for the whole office.” 

“Is that why you’re late? You were sneaking me a slice?” The audience laughed. 

“No,” Cas’s mouth made a firm line, “I had to stop by the bank. Our account was overdrawn. I explained to the teller that someone must have stolen my information to make such an expensive purchase. Afterall, neither of us would ever buy a. . . television.” 

Cas trailed off when he saw the shiny new television set on the kitchen counter. It was 16 by 16 inches. The most expensive set on the market. 

Cas leveled a look at Dean. The audience chuckled and ‘ooh’ed. 

“Well, I’ll be,” Dean said, his voice slightly too high, “Someone stole your money to buy a television, on the very same day I find this old thing on the side of the road. What are the odds?” The audience laughed along. 

Cas sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Dean turned back to the stove top. 

“Dean, you have a spending problem.” 

“It’s not a problem. This is how things should be. You bring home the bacon, and I spend it.” 

“Perhaps if you knew how difficult it was to,” Cas did air quotes, “‘bring home the bacon’ you wouldn’t spend it quite so thoughtlessly.” 

“Well, if you knew how difficult it was to do the grocery shopping, and cooking, and cleaning you wouldn’t complain so much.” Dean turned around holding a plate of eggs, toast, and, “bacon?” 

Cas accepted the plate with a weary smile. 

“I’m only asking you to consult me before making any big spending decisions. Unless you want to get a job of your own.” 

“I could if I wanted to. But if you were the one who had to do all the housework, you wouldn’t last a week. You have no idea how hard I work to keep this house in tip top shape. Sam gets it, right Sam?” 

“Right,” Sam sat in the kitchen chair with Dean’s jacket. Cas blinked. Sam was wearing a short sleeved plaid button up. His hair was gelled away from his face. Cas hadn’t noticed him sitting there, but of course, he had gotten distracted by the expensive new television. 

“You know, Eileen is always nagging my ear off about money,” Sam leaned back in his chair, “She’s always saying I shop too much. She just doesn’t get how hard it is to do housework all day. Shopping helps me relax.” 

“If anyone deserves to relax, it’s me and Cas. It’s much harder to work a 9 to 5 than it is to do housework. Maybe we should make a wager to settle this matter once and for all,” Eileen said from the kitchen chair next to Sam. Her hair was in an updo, with curls tightly pinned into place. She had a string of pearls and a dark dress with a sweetheart neckline. Cas hadn’t noticed her either. He glanced down at his plate. Maybe he needed to eat something. 

“Well, what sort of wager?” Sam folded his arms. 

“You and Dean will join the workforce for a week, while Cas and I stay at home and take care of things,” Eileen said with smirk. “If Cas and I give in first, you get full control of our next five paychecks. But if you and Dean quit first, you have to check in with us before you buy anything expensive.” 

Sam looked uneasy. He turned toward Dean. 

Dean’s thoughtful expression melted into a smug smirk. 

“What’d you say, Cas? Think you’re up for the challenge?” 

Cas held out his hand and stuck out his chin. 

“May the best man win.” 

Dean shook his hand and the deal was made. Cas didn’t let go, so neither did Dean. 

Dean looked down their hands. He could feel the pressure of Cas’s grip. He squeezed Cas’s hand, his flesh and bone. He was real. Dean looked up and found Cas still studying his face. 

“I think you mean best woman,” Eileen said, and the audience cheered. The scene faded to black. 

A lively band started to play. A grey background faded in. A white cartoon heart appeared. The heart was outlined in a thin black line. In cursive “DEAN WINCHESTER” and “CASTIEL” appeared inside the heart. That heart faded into an identical heart that said, in the same cursive lettering, “I LOVE CASTIEL”, just as the music finished with a flourish of trumpets. 

The next morning, Dean walked into the kitchen while buttoning the sleeves of his shirt. He stopped short when he saw a beautiful sight: Cas holding a tray of freshly baked blueberry muffins. 

“I’ll be damned,” Dean said, “Am I still dreaming?” 

“Good morning,” Cas said making sure the muffins were on full display. “Would you like some breakfast? Muffin? Coffee?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Dean said, sliding into a chair and reaching for a muffin. He pulled down the wrapper and took a bite. 

Cas stared at him intently as he poured a cup of joe. 

Dean’s eyes widened with delighted shock. 

“Cas, this is incredible!” Dean said with his mouth full. 

“You’re being polite.” 

“I’m not,” Dean said, sending a chuck of muffin flying. He put a hand over his mouth and quickly finished swallowing before he continued, “Cas, you made these? All by yourself?” 

“Of course,” Cas narrowed his eyes. 

“And you didn’t use your—” 

Dean stopped. Cas walked back to the table and slid Dean’s coffee in front of him. Dean didn’t finish his thought. Cas sat down, looking at him expectantly. 

“uh— I mean— you didn’t use your mother’s recipes?” 

“My mother wasn’t much for domestic work,” Cas explained, “She used recipe books as paper weights.” The audience laughed. 

Dean smiled and took another bite of muffin. It tasted like pure bliss. 

“Gee Cas, if I knew you were this good in the kitchen I would’ve let you play chef much sooner.” 

“These are the first muffins I’ve ever made. It must be beginners’ luck.” 

“You have a gift,” Dean said then took another big bite. Cas looked very proud of himself. 

The phone rang. Dean stood and answered it before Cas could. 

“Hulo?” Dean spoke around the muffin in his mouth. He swallowed and listened. “Yes. . . is that so?. . .well, thank you very much.” 

Dean hung up the phone and rejoined Cas at the table. 

“Maybe I’ll bake a pie for dinner tonight,” Cas said, unwrapping a muffin for himself. 

“Oh, wonderful idea.” Dean leaned with his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand, “But you know, I’m not sure we have a pie tin. Maybe you should stop by Ash’s Bakery. He just called and said you left your hat there when you ran in to pick up your muffins this morning.” 

Cas froze. Dean grinned and raised his eyebrows. 

Cas set his uneaten muffin down, “In my defense, I sincerely tried. I made three dozen muffins this morning.” 

“Where are they?” 

“In the garage. I thought we might keep them in case we ever needed three dozen hockey pucks.” 

Dean laughed, along with the audience, but Cas didn’t think it was very funny. 

“I tried, Dean. The important thing is I put breakfast on the table. I upheld my end of the bargain. Have you found a job yet?” 

“Sammy and I are meeting at the unemployment agency right now. Wish me luck?” 

“Good luck,” Cas said as Dean pulled a smile out of him. He added with a twinkle in his eyes, “You’ll need it.” 

Sam and Dean walked through the plain white hallway, only stopping when they reached a wooden door with a glass panel. ‘Crowley’s Employment Office’ was painted in cursive on the glass. 

Sam and Dean shared an encouraging look, and Dean opened the door. 

Crowley was seated behind a large mahogany desk. Sam and Dean sat in two chairs in front of him. Their chairs were shorter than his, so they had to look up to him. 

Crowley was dressed in a suit, with a freshly trimmed beard and his hair combed back. He looked between Sam and Dean. 

“Uh, we’re looking for a job” Dean explained, “together.” 

“I see,” Crowley said, just as confused as before. The audience chuckled. Sam glanced at Dean, who was still smiling at Crowley. 

“What sort of job did you have in mind?” Crowley asked, spreading his hands onto the desk. 

“Well, what kind of jobs do you have open?” Dean asked. Sam side eyed him. 

“Well, what do you do?” Crowley asked. 

Dean blinked but his smile didn’t falter. 

“Well, what kind of jobs do you have open?” He asked. Crowley narrowed his eyes. 

“What do you do?” 

“What kind of jobs do you have open?” 

Crowley smiled without teeth, “You go first this time.” 

“What do you do?” Dean asked. 

“What kind of jobs do you— now wait just a minute,” Crowley sputtered. 

The audience roared with laughter. Sam leaned forward in his seat. Dean finally looked at him. Sam was tense. He nodded slightly, reassuring him that he had this situation under control. 

Crowley cleared his throat and straightened the papers on his desk. 

“What sort of jobs have you had previously? And this time, I’d like to hear from your friend.” 

Dean glanced toward Sam. 

“Uh, well… we used to… we used to…” Sam trailed off. His gaze dropped from Crowley and onto the desktop. All of the papers on his desk were blank. Sam blinked. They were still blank. Shouldn’t something be— 

“We used to work around the house,” Dean reached over and slapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam snapped out of his trance. “But we’re looking for jobs because we made a bet with Sam’s wife and my. . . and Cas. Right, Sammy?” 

Sam felt a rush of relief. He figured it must be because Dean was going to get them a job, and Sam wanted to win the bet. That would be such a relief. 

“Right,” Sam said, after Dean and Crowley looked at him a moment too long. 

Crowley flipped through the papers on his desk with one raised eyebrow. 

Finally he found the paper he was looking for and pulled it from the stack. He pulled a wooden stamp from his desk drawer and stamped the paper twice. Then he gave the boys a thin smile. 

“Congratulations. You are the newest employees of Harvelle’s Candy Factory.” 

“Thank you very much. When do we start?” Dean held out a hand, and Crowley shook it with a slight sneer. 

“Let’s see. It’s 8:15 and they open at 8. Looks like you boys are already late,” Crowley said. Dean and Sam scrambled out of the seats, and the audience laughed and cheered. 

“Alright, boys,” Ellen, the manager of Harvelle’s Candy Factory, led them to the candy conveyer belt where Sam and Dean would be stationed. 

Dean and Sam were dressed in white polos tucked into white pants. They both had chef hats that were slightly floppier than normal. 

Ellen had her hair pulled up with three perfect curls pinned in the front. She had a small hat and a collared dress with shiny buttons down the front. She put a hand on the conveyer belt, that currently wasn’t running, and turned to face the boys. 

“You are going to pick up the candy as it comes, wrap it, and place it back on the conveyer belt. Not too much of a hassle if you ask me. Now,” she held up her pointer finger. Sam and Dean gave her their full attention. 

“if one single piece of candy gets past you, outta this room unwrapped.” She turned her raised hand into a fist, “You’re fired. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Sam and Dean said together. 

Ellen didn’t smile. She gave them one more warning look and then she left the room. 

“We sure are lucky guys. This job will be easy,” Dean grinned. 

Sam was staring at the door Ellen just used. A strange look on his face. 

“Did she look—” 

An alarm rang, and sudden the conveyor belt was moving. Sam and Dean jumped into position as the first piece of chocolate appeared. 

Both boys had a stack of candy wrappers in front of them. They eagerly grabbed the chocolate, twisted the paper around it, and placed it back on the belt. So far, so good. 

Dean turned to his brother with a cheeky grin, “Not too bad, huh?” 

Sam opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Dean lunged forward to grab a wayward piece of chocolate that had somehow gotten past them. 

Dean started to wrap it, but then suddenly there were three more pieces in front of him. There was either more chocolate on the belt, or the belt was going faster, or maybe a combination of the two. Dean couldn’t think about it too hard, as he picked up the three pieces with one hand and shoved them in his mouth. 

The audience laughed. 

Sam was frantically grabbing chocolate, but he wasn’t fast enough. Several pieces ended up forgotten on the table. At one point, he started stuffing them down his shirt. Dean stuffed his face with as many as he could, and when he had chipmunk cheeks he ripped off his hat and started shoving chocolate in there too. 

The audience was roaring with laughter, absolutely hysterical. 

Sam stopped. He froze, suddenly, like… like… 

“Sam! The ‘andy!” Dean said around his mouthful of chocolates. He gave him an incredulous look and stepped away from the conveyor belt. 

Sam was transfixed, staring at the candy that was passing them by. Unwrapped. Ellen didn’t reappear. Nothing was happening. Nothing was wrong. 

Yet, Sam felt a chill down his spine, because he suddenly realized something was very, very wrong. 

“Dean,” Sam slowly turned toward his brother, and spoke in a low voice. Nothing like he’d sounded before. He wasn’t happy-go-lucky Sam. 

Dean realized something was wrong. 

Sam must’ve misinterpreted the expression on his face, because he immediately jumped into case-mode. 

“Dean, this is bad. This is just like the TV land Gabriel trapped us years ago. Do you think it could be him? What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“You won’t understand.” 

“Do you think it’s possible this is Chuck? Or—” Sam stopped spiraling long enough to process what he’d just said. “What did you just say?” 

Dean’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were too wide. Sam knew that look. He was desperate. 

“Dean,” Sam said slowly. 

\- 

The door to the kitchen opened. Dean walked inside, hat in hand. 

“Caaaas, I’m home,” he called. He heard footsteps, and suddenly Cas burst into the kitchen from the living room door. Dean’s jaw dropped. 

Cas was a mess. The audience sounded deeply amused, from the way his hair was sticking up in every direction, to the flour smeared on his forehead, to his frilly apron covered in stains. 

Dean closed the door and walked closer. 

“Busy day?” Dean asked and the audience laughed. 

Cas looked anxious. “I’m afraid today was much harder than I anticipated. For dinner you can chose between charred remains of chicken or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I tried to bake a pie but. . . it’s currently collapsed on the bottom of our oven. I tried to clean, but—” 

“Cas,” Dean put a hand on his arm, efficiently shutting him up. Cas still looked worried, but Dean had an easy smile, “It’s okay. I was fired.” 

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” 

“I would never lie to you,” Dean insisted. “I’m totally incompetent. I probably lost that business hundreds of dollars. Not exactly employee of the month material.” 

The corners of Cas’s mouth twisted up, “I think you’re the husband of the month.” 

Dean opened his mouth. He closed it and swallowed, hard. 

Cas narrowed his eyes. 

“Dean, is something wrong?” 

“No,” Dean choked out. “No.” His eyes darted around Cas’s face, committing every inch to memory, “Nothing is wrong. We’re… like you said.” 

“Married,” Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and smiled. 

“Yeah,” Dean said hoarsely, and let their hands drop between them. 

“I think we each learned a valuable lesson today,” Cas said. Then he lowered his eyes, a troubled crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Where are Sam and Eileen?” 

With his free hand Dean reached for Cas’s chin. He titled his face up, so they could look each other in the eyes. 

“Sam and Eileen moved out of Westview,” Dean said and then quickly added, “I think we both learned a valuable lesson today.” 

“Yes,” Cas blinked, almost mechanically, “I think we both learned a valuable lesson today.” 

“You make the money, I’ll buy the TVs,” Dean said with a cheeky grin. Cas put his hands on his hips and made an exasperated face. Dean looked at the camera straight on, and gave a mischievous shrug. Everything went black except for a small circle around Dean’s face, and then that was swallowed in darkness, too.

**Author's Note:**

> CREDITS:
> 
> Written by … @thehayleywrites on Tumblr
> 
> Inspired by … I Love Lucy, Wandavision, Supernatural 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> AFTER CREDITS SCENE:
> 
> Sam opened his eyes and gasped. 
> 
> He was winced as he sat up. He was sitting on grass by the side of a road. It must’ve been just after dawn. The grass was wet with dew and the sky was a shade of blue so light it was almost white. 
> 
> Sam looked around but it was all grass and empty road for miles. The only other thing was a faded green sign by the side of the road that read 
> 
> “Welcome to Westview: Home is Where You Make It”


End file.
